William Shakespeare

The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious read more

The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on without
Good morrow to the sun.

If this is a crush, then I don't know if I could take the real thing if it happens.

If this is a crush, then I don't know if I could take the real thing if it happens.

Would the cook were o' my mind!

Would the cook were o' my mind!

See where she comes, apparelled like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
Of read more

See where she comes, apparelled like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
Of every virtue gives renown to men!

There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark
But he's an arrant knave.

There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark
But he's an arrant knave.